Page 73 of Ominous: Part 1
Another second ticks by. Another.
Then he looks away, sitting up straighter, uncrossing his knee and putting both feet on the floor as he releases the water bottle.
“She died.” He stands then, turning his back to me. He looks as if he’s going to walk off, disappear into an aisle.
I’m careful with my chair, unlike the last time we were in the library together, and I stand too. “Eli.”
I see tension nip into his shoulders, but he doesn’t look at me and he doesn’t speak.
Annoyance rolls through me, and I think of Sebastian. Our parents have bugged him to get another job, but he doesn’t even apply. He does whatever he wants, and they let him get away with it.
I thought Eli’s dad might have hit him, with those bruises on his body.
But it seems Eli is as spoiled as my brother, and Reece would never lay a hand on Sebastian.
I push thoughts of him aside. “How did she die?” I ask Eli, my voice unwavering.
“Three questions, Eden. You said you could count.”
My face is hot, spreading down to my chest, sweat beading on the back of my neck, my hair down for once, heavy and thick, not for the first time, I think of shaving it all off. “You sound like a toddler.”
The muscles in his back shift as he looks at me over his shoulder. “What?”
“You sound like a spoiled brat. Don’t sulk. I’m sorry your mom died, but I just want to know—”
The look he gives me causes the words to break apart in my mouth, and a new thought weaves itself in my brain, fast, a haphazard sweater of nervous energy.
I almost dismiss the idea immediately, but it takes root and won’t leave.
I blurt it out before I can stop myself. “Did you… did youkill her?”
He doesn’t react. His expression is eerily blank.
My heart overcomes the drugs meant to slow it, and I feel the nervous flutters in my chest. My fingertips graze the table to steady myself.
“Are you nervous?” He glances around the library, quiet and dark, the only librarian is probably on the lower level, where the oldest texts are kept. I’m sure if I screamed, she’d hear me, but would Eli let me draw breath to do it?
I think of our fantasies.
A murderer. A victim.
A smile pulls on his lips as he turns all the way around to face me. “You’re thinking thoseworst thingsmight’ve been better left unsaid, huh?”
I swallow the fear wringing a noose around my throat. “What happened to her? Your mom, what happened?”
“You think it was all just a fantasy?” He enjoys my discomfort.
I laugh dismissively, despite my fear. “You didn’t do it.” I don’t know that for a fact, but I think he’s toying with me.
He steps around the table, slow, deliberate movements designed to cause me anxiety, until we’re toe-to-toe, and my hands are by my sides because I’ve turned to face him too. I have to tilt my head up, and he has to lower his, and we don’t physically connect, but the hairs on the back of my arms stand on end and it’s like he’s touching me. I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“You didn’t do it.” All he has to do is agree.
His eyes search mine for a beat. Then he says, “I think whatever we’re doing here is getting out of hand.”
It’s like he’s thrown icy water over my head. A shiver runs through me, cold, then hot all over again.What?
He looks down at me through his lashes, his tone condescending. “We don’t even know each other, Eden, and you’re accusing me of murder.” He bends lower, so we’re eye level, his eyes darkened, no emerald to be found. “Maybe we should take a step back, huh? This probably isn’t good for either of us.”
